


Deliverance

by SomniumFlorum



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Masturbation, NSFW, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomniumFlorum/pseuds/SomniumFlorum
Summary: Paladin Danse is a man of honor.He never strays from duty, he follows Brotherhood of Steel commands as if they are the word of God. He lives and dies by war, by blood, by sacrifice. Decorum is his way of life, has been for the past twelve years.And then…Then she strolls in.{Three-part DansexOC series}





	1. Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfiction in years!
> 
> Been on a crazy Danse binge lately so I finally got off my ass and decided to write again. This is going to be a three part series, segments through Paladin Danse's POV.
> 
> Please send me any comments and suggestions. I truly appreciate it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Paladin Danse is a man of honor.

 

He never strays from duty, he follows Brotherhood of Steel commands as if they are the word of God. He lives and dies by war, by blood, by sacrifice. Decorum is his way of life, has been for the past twelve years.

And then…

Then she strolls in. She strolls in like a hurricane in July, like a midwest blizzard. She fills his lungs with the perfume of the thick locks of her brown hair and the bittersweetness of her sweat, she shrouds his mind with fantasies of flesh. Her very essence follows him at all times, begging to be envisioned, explored. It’s so much sometimes that he gives into his desires, ones so carnal and deep that he cannot contain them.

The Paladin’s cock twitches against its restraints once again.

Darkness had fallen over the Commonwealth hours before, draping shadows over the abandoned building the pair has settled in for the night. He had taken first watch, as customary, but tonight in particular he needs to be alone with his thoughts. Their plague on his mind is driving him mad; just catching the scent of her skin today had nearly sent him into a frenzy. He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to picture her, her elegant clavicles, the delicacy that is the valley of her breasts. In his mind she has flesh of silk, scorching and sweetly sinful. Her curls waterfall over his face every time she bends down to lay a kiss on his mouth, tongue tasting of Nuka Cherry and cigarettes, and her eyes are always darkened to copper, dilated with desire.

The Paladin opens his eyes in alarm, having to bite down on his lip to keep from groaning out loud. The hardness of his cock is almost painful, and though his mind knows well that duty falls above all else the dizzying sensation of lust won’t let him focus. All he can think about is the curvature of her spine trailing down her slender waist and ample hips, ending just above her round, supple-

“Danse…”

He heard it, clear as day. It was her voice, soft and deep but with the husk of someone just woken from sleep. Danse remains silent, in his shame mentally berating his cock into softness, but then he hears her voice again, a slow, breathy drawl, and suddenly he’s rock hard again.

She’s moaning.

His name.

Danse’s heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his chest, a tingling sensation forming at the base of his spine. A million thoughts are flying through his mind but the only one he can seem to grasp is the image of Penelope’s body, so slick with sweat that the thin fabric of her white tank clings to her pert nipples, writhing in pleasure as she plunges her fingers deeper into herself. And _fuck, she’s moaning his name._

Now he’s breathing hard and the goose bumps on his skin won’t disappear. The pain is so much it feels like torture, one he’s trying with all his might to endure. Two more hours of watch, he reminds himself. Two more hours and the torture is over.

Fuck. He can’t do it.

Her moans have become a gentle mewling that ties knots in his stomach. He stands rapidly, pacing the floor in front of his chair as he presses the palm of his hand roughly against his erection to no avail. Defeated, ashamed, he sneaks his way to the small room adjacent to the lobby. The one furthest from where Penelope is.

Breathing nervously, and with shaking fingers, the Paladin unzips the front of his flightsuit until it reaches his pelvis and wraps the sleeves around his hips. It’s a lot more nerve wracking than he expected it to be, and he almost puts his clothes back on. But then he thinks about how hard he’ll be listening to her moans, how hard he already _is_. He allows his fingers to ghost over the fabric of the suit, imagining Penelope’s hot breath against his skin, before plunging his hand into his boxers and wrapping his fingers around the throbbing flesh. He slides his thumb over the side, where foreskin meets head, and sighs with delight at the sensation. Slow, he reminds himself, resting his head on the cold concrete.

He slides the foreskin down the tip, which is now a bright pink, and squeezes gently, a small groan escaping his lips. His other hand presses against the wall to keep him steady as he builds a slow rhythm, taking time to pump his cock from base to head, head to base. There’s a pressure forming at the pit of his stomach, one so deep he has to clench his teeth to keep from groaning out. His pace is quickening, hips thrusting into his fist, the sound of Penelope’s honey voice moaning his name playing in his mind over and over and over and-

“Paladin…?”

Danse turns suddenly, cock still in hand. There she is standing at the doorway, hair disheveled in a way only she could make sexy, her golden skin flushed and slick in afterglow, in only a white tank and cotton panties so soaked he can see the curls of her hair through the fabric. He takes a harsh breath, unsure of what to do, what to say, and then he sees her eyes trail to his erection, which is still hot and throbbing, and she whispers softly, “You’ve got a massive cock.”

He almost laughs. He would have, if he wasn’t so embarrassed. Penelope’s silent, but her eyes are now on his, and in the dim light coming in from the hallway he can see that they’re wide and dilated with lust.

“Paez, no.”

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

She's stepping closer to him, slowly, cautiously, as if afraid he’s going to run away. He’s so close to reaching out to her, to taking her in his arms and brushing his lips against her neck, but he knows he can’t; decorum prohibits it.

“Penelope,” he whispers back, his cock so hard it’s almost impossible to get the words out, “We can’t have a sexual relationship.”

She licks her lips and stops just a few inches from him, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her skin, and gives him a grin so mischievous he actual groans out loud.

“Watching each other come isn’t _techincally_ sex.”

And he bets she’s willing to argue that in a court of law too. Her fingers brush against the back of his hand and take hold, and she begins leading him out of the small room. Danse knows he should be protesting, but the smell of her mutfruit shampoo and sweat intoxicate his mind, and it’s then that he knows that he cannot go back. There’s nothing more he wants in this godforsaken world than to see her face when she reaches orgasm.

Penelope pulls him into the lobby, right to where the chair in which he’d been keeping watch still sits. Without a word, she peels the moistened fabric of her shirt over her head, and for the first time in his life, Paladin Danse finds himself breathless. Her body is half shrouded in shadows, but he can still make out the silhouette of her breasts, plump and stiff with desire. Danse bites down on his lip as his eyes continue their way down her body and to her hips, where her thumbs have hooked around the elastic band of her panties. Penelope’s amber eyes are locked on his as she begins to sway her body slowly, tantalizingly, her thumbs inching her underwear down her legs. Danse’s cock is fully hard again in his hand, and he has to keep himself from stroking his erection just at the sight of her. She’s fully naked for him now, her figure so soft and beautiful it makes Danse want to weep.

The darkest reaches of his mind beg for him to dig his fingers into her hips, his teeth into the delicate flesh of her neck. He wants to fill her with himself, feel her clench around him as he reaches deeper and deeper into her, and the only thing holding him back is the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had her. Not while she’s his subordinate. Just having her here, bare and wet for him is already too much. They could lose everything if anyone were to find out.

Penelope’s hand lands gently on his shoulder, pushing him down onto his knees in front of her. She takes a seat on the chair, her long, thick legs so close to Danse that he can smell her sweetness. His mouth waters as she runs her fingers over her glistening skin, her legs opening slowly, inch by inch. Danse’s breath catches in his throat, cock twitching in hand, and he allows himself to squeeze at the head to relieve his lust. Penelope’s fingers are trailing their way up her inner thighs, and Danse can see her legs tremble as she sighs softly in pleasure. Danse’s hand begins sliding along the length of his erection, his eyes flashing up to hers. The golden orbs are trained on his, and then she gasps softly, her delicate eyebrows coming together as her fingertips brush against her clit.

Danse groans as he watches her, entranced by every flutter of her eyelids, the palpitation of her jugular every time she takes a shaky breath. Her full lips are wet and parted, and all Danse can think about as his thumb runs over the head of his cock, already slick with precum, is how sweet they must taste. Danse’s eyes trail down her body, beads of sweat running between her full breasts and over the planes of her stomach, settling in the small bundle of curly brown hair between her thighs. He longs to taste her; the mix of her musk and juices, fragrant and nectarous all at once, is nearly driving him mad. Penelope plunges two fingers into herself, crying out sweetly, and Danse’s hand begins to stroke faster, his blood pumping hot in his veins. Her fingers are sliding in and out at a smooth rhythm, slick with her cum. Danse licks his lips instinctively as he watches her, his cock swollen with need in his hand, and then she whispers out his name.

Danse’s eyes immediately shoot up to hers and his eyebrows furrow pleadingly. Her fingers are moving faster now, her moans growing so loud they fill Danse’s mind. There’s only her, panting his name, touching herself for him. A tingling begins moving its way up Danse’s spine and Penelope’s legs are quivering as she yells out his name. Her honey eyes widen then, pretty pink mouth falling open as one last scream rips out of her body. Danse’s legs buckle under him as he watches her pussy clench around her fingers, dripping cum onto the chair beneath her, and his hand grips tightly around the base of his cock as he comes with her. His cum his hot and thick as it falls over Penelope’s thighs, and Danse strokes himself for her slowly, giving her every last drop of cum.

Danse’s breath is heavy as he dares to place a tender kiss on her knee, his eyes affectionate as they fall on hers. Penelope’s mouth curves up into a coy smirk and he chuckles, eyebrows coming together in adoration as she stands in front of him, a goddess in afterglow.

  
She’s a sin, he knows. But he’s already fallen too deep into temptation.


	2. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you afraid of losing me too?”
> 
> He hadn't expected her to be so sincere. Danse has never explicitly told Penelope how he feels about her; that the memory of her orgasming for him keeps him up at night, or that the sight of her smile makes his heart race in his chest. She doesn't know that the sound of her voice is the sweetest music he’s ever heard, or that the scent of her skin is so intoxicating it makes his head swim. She doesn’t know that Danse has wanted her to love him since their first mission together at ArcJet. But, put simply, yes. He is afraid of losing her too. Terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone!
> 
> The second chapter came pretty quickly because I already had the groundwork laid out, so I hope you enjoy it! This one is a lot more fluff than the last one, but there's still some erotic aspect to it. I'll be working diligently on the last chapter so I can get it up too. Thanks again to everyone for their kudos and comments. Please continue to leave me any comments or criticism; it helps me grow. I appreciate you all!
> 
> (Also, does anyone know where I can find a proofreader/want to be my proofreader? It's exhausting having to ready 5+ pages over and over again)

“Paladin Danse?”

The gentle rapping against the door had already given her away, but the sound of her voice coming through the door is still a comfort. The Paladin rises from his desk, where a flurry of papers and folders is scattered, and opens the door. Penelope stands at his doorway with a bottle of liquor in her hand and a box of Fancy Lads tucked beneath her arm. Danse tries to refrain from smiling, but the corner of his lip betrays him. Penelope grins in response, tilting her head at him as her eyes scan his room.

“May I?”

Danse moves away from the doorway and extends an arm in welcome, allowing her, for the first time, into his space. Penelope’s head turns slowly as she examines the room; a Brotherhood flag hangs above his bed, issues of Tesla Science in shadowboxes cover the back wall, a photograph of a young Danse and a man she doesn’t recognize sits on his desk. Her fingers delicately run over the fabric of his bed cover, as if she’s trying to memorize every sight and feeling. She looks at him then, her eyes shimmering like gold, and whispers, “I’m leaving to find Virgil tomorrow.”

Penelope’s words hurt more than any injury he’s experienced in his twelve years of service. Danse falls back into his chair, stunned, wordless. Not even the Brotherhood would dare to venture that far into the Glowing Sea.

“Penelope, that’s suicide.”

She sets the bottle and box down on the desk beside him, her composure calm despite his statement.

“I have to find Shaun, Danse. It’s the only way.”

Danse huffs softly, his eyes still not meeting hers. He knew this would happen. It was stupid of him to think that the Wastes wouldn’t take her from him too.

“I know,” he manages shakily.

Her hand lands on his gently, her fingers intertwining themselves in his. Danse finally manages to look up at her, and finds that her eyes are as glossy as his. But there’s a strange serenity in her eyes, like a martyr waiting for execution. She’s calm from loving, Danse realizes. Penelope doesn’t just want to find her son; she _needs_ to.

“How am I supposed to go off thinking you don’t believe in me?”

Danse chuckles softly, shaking his head before looking back up.

“I don’t believe in anything _but_ you, Penelope.”

Penelope grins then, tugging at his fingers with hers. He stands for her and she immediately wraps her strong arms around his chest, her face burying in the thin fabric of his tee. Danse can feel her breathing on his neck, the soothing thumping of her heart against his chest, the warmth of her skin radiating. He’d imagined finally holding her thousands of times before, but never as a goodbye. He rests his chin atop her head, embracing her smaller frame, trying to memorize the feeling of her eyelashes fluttering against his neck, or the curves of her body melding into his. She pulls away from him, wiping at her cheeks with the heel of her palm as she turns away.

“I didn’t know you were into Tesla Science.”

Danse takes a deep breath as he sits back down, his eyes following hers to the furthest wall. She’s trying to divert his attention from her, but he knows those were tears in her eyes.

“Most of those I brought over from Rivet City, a few I found here in the Commonwealth. That one,” he points to the last one on the top row, “was given to me by Cutler.”

He didn’t mean to make his voice sound as soft as it did, but Penelope turns to him with tender eyes.

“Cutler. Is that him with you in the picture?”

Danse takes the frame carefully into his hands, cradling it as protectively as one would a newborn child. This was a part of his life he didn't like to talk about; the pain was still as fresh as if it’d all occurred yesterday.

“I found a functioning camera one day while scavenging out in D.C. It only seemed appropriate that I took a photo of my brother and myself,” he states simply, placing the photograph back down.

Penelope’s heard about Cutler before, he knows. It’s the hushed topic that initiates gossip about at the mess hall when someone’s been assigned to his team. The infamous Cutler incident that fucked up Paladin Danse.

“Are you afraid of losing me too?”

He hadn't expected her to be so sincere. Danse has never explicitly told Penelope how he feels about her; that the memory of her orgasming for him keeps him up at night, or that the sight of her smile makes his heart race in his chest. She doesn't know that the sound of her voice is the sweetest music he’s ever heard, or that the scent of her skin is so intoxicating it makes his head swim. She doesn’t know that Danse has wanted her to love him since their first mission together at ArcJet. But, put simply, yes. He is afraid of losing her too. Terrified.

“I'd rather save that for another time,” Danse decides, knowing that he's too vulnerable at the moment. The last thing he wants is to imagine Penelope suffering a fate like Cutler’s.

His eyes fall on the bottle then, a colorful glass encasement with paintings of palm trees and suns unlike anything he's ever seen before.

“Mama Juana,” Penelope offers with a small smile, “my pop’s favorite.”

Danse cannot even imagine the trouble Penelope must have gone through to bring this bottle to him. His fingers take hold of the neck of the bottle carefully and he holds it up to the light, catching the dim outline of branches and herbs floating amongst the amber liquid.

“I’m not supposed to be drinking tonight, but a shot can’t hurt, right?”

The Paladin chuckles deeply, watching her standing there, in his room, with that radiant smile of hers. He takes a mental snapshot of the moment, storing it in the deepest reaches of his mind, where she can stay, safe, forever.

He stands to make his way to the small liquor cabinet hanging on the wall beside his bed, from which he retrieves two crystal shot glasses. Penelope takes them from his hands and places them on his desk, filling each with an exact amount of the drink. She raises her glass to meet his, her eyes still glossy, and whispers, “To safe travels.”

Danse nods curtly, offering, “And to safe returns.”

They each down the shot in one go, Danse’s eyebrows furrowing as the burning of rum and wine scorches its way down his throat. What is left on his tongue is the mild spice of cinnamon, along with the thick sweetness of dark honey.

“Fuck,” he whispers as his eyes meet hers, and then shift to the bottle. If Penelope were a drink, this would be her. Painful, sweet, hot, addicting.

“You like it?” There’s a hint of a smirk in her voice.

“I’ve never tasted anything better in my life.”

Penelope chuckles warmly, her eyes lazy and lidded as she stares at him through those long eyelashes of hers. Danse shifts nervously for a second, unsure of what is going through her mind, and then she breathes softly, “Would you like to dance?”

“I’ve never danced before in my life.”

Penelope responds with a short laugh, unbuckling her Pip-Boy from around her wrist. She sets it down on his desk, beside the empty shot glasses, and begins fiddling with the knobs and buttons until a soft melody begins to fill the room. It’s the forlorn cries of a piano calling for its lover, followed by the husked laments of a man singing in a language Danse doesn’t understand.

“Come,” Penelope calls as she turns towards him. “The most important part of dancing is having fun.”

Danse raises his thick eyebrows at her as she places his large hand on her waist, the warmth of her flesh palpable through her white tank. She takes his other hand in hers, raising it up next to his face.

“You dance with your hips, not your shoulders,” she instructs as her body begins to sway, “Feel out the rhythm, let it carry you.”

Danse holds Penelope tighter to his body, his heart thumping wildly against her soft chest. His thumb brushes along the length of her spine and she shivers in his arms, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He begins to get a hang of the footwork, guiding her body along the length of the floor.

“What does the song say?”

Penelope lifts her head up to meet his eyes, and it’s then that he sees that her face has flushed into a rosy gold, her mouth curved up into a flustered smile. He feels her finger brushing against the nape of his neck, and he gasps softly at the sensation.

“‘Kiss me. Kiss me a lot. As if tonight was the last time.’”

Danse knows it’s not an accident that she chose this song. All thoughts of duty and decorum are thrown out the window. There’s only them now, and Penelope’s eyes are pleading for his kiss.

He untangles his fingers from hers, letting his hand fall over her wrist. His fingers caress their way up her arm and her eyelashes flutter in response, a breath very similar to the one’s she’d made when he watched her come escaping her lips.

She’s tilting her head backwards, her lips parting slightly as her tongue flicks out to moisten them. Danse takes this as an invitation, his hand leaving her arm to cup the back of her head, and he places a careful kiss on the corner of her mouth, watching her eyes flutter close as he makes contact.

The thumping in Danse’s chest picks up, and the hand still on her waist pulls her flush against him. Every curve of her body is on his now, the plumpness of her breasts, the flat plateau that is her stomach, the lithe muscles of her legs. Danse’s blood is lava in his veins, so hot it’s painful. His fingers shake as they snake their way up the back of her shirt, feeling the goose bumps forming on her skin as his mouth travels its way down to her jaw. Penelope’s hands are clenched around the fabric of his tee, her head cocked back as Danse’s lips brush against the curvature of her neck, which is vibrating with her quiet moans.

“What else does it say?”

Penelope gasps as his tongue snakes out to taste her skin, and Danse has to hold back a groan. She tastes clean and a bit sweet, from her mutfruit shampoo, Danse guesses. There’s also a hint of her sweat, something so purely hers that it makes Danse’s mouth water.

“What else?”

“‘Kiss me,’” she manages with an exhale, her eyes dark and  glossed over with what Danse has come to recognize as lust. “‘Kiss me a lot. For I have a fear of losing you afterwards.’”

Danse’s fingers tangle themselves in her dark curls, bringing her face so close to his he can feel her breaths.

“You’re going to come back to me from the Sea. And when you do,” his lips brush against hers, “I’m going to kiss you forever.”

A large tear rolls down Penelope’s cheek as Danse’s mouth crashes against hers, every dream, every fantasy, every ounce of love for her coming with it. He wraps his arms around her hips, pulling her up to him so that her mouth is level with his, and snakes his tongue into her mouth, groaning softly. His mind is beginning to swim, fingers trembling as they leave imprints on her skin from squeezing too hard. Penelope’s mouth is blistering hot, her teeth scraping and pulling at his bottom lip almost lasciviously. Danse’s hands slide down to her round ass, his fingertips digging into the supple muscle, and he instinctively cocks his hand back and lands a sharp slap across her asscheek.

Penelope makes a sound close to a growl against his mouth, wrapping her legs around his hips as Danse presses her against the wall. His cock is hard against the fabric of his fatigues, her sounds so carnal it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Even watching her come for him was but a wet dream compared to this. Now she’s here, soft, golden flesh against his rough palms, lips swollen from his kiss, her fingernails leaving crescents on his back.

Danse knows that if this continues much longer he won’t be able to stop, but even now he feels too drunk with lust for her to pull his lips away. It’s Penelope that ends the kiss, leaning forward slightly to press her forehead against his.

"We both have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The music has ended, he realizes. The fantasy is over.

Danse closes his eyes slowly, exhaling softly before pressing his lips against her cheekbone. The throbbing of his erection has him dizzy, but he releases his grip on her thighs, holding onto her waist until she’s able to right herself.

Despite the haze, the sense of panic still lingers, and before he even opens his eyes he demands, “Has Proctor Ingram checked your Power Armor?”

“She has.”

“And do you have enough rations?”

“You know I do, Danse.”

Danse opens his eyes and they immediately fall on her, doe-eyed and full-lipped but sharp-boned and severe all at once. Her lips are slightly bruised, hair a halo of brown wisps around her head, beautiful and wild. Danse can’t help but kiss her once again, gently this time.

“I want you to take these too,” he whispers, pulling the chain of his dogtags over his head. He places them in Penelope’s palm, wrapping his hand around her closed fist. “You have to return them, so you better come back, Paez.”

Penelope places her smooth palm on his cheek, thumb grazing his lips, her eyes bright as the sunrise. Danse wants to tell her right then that he's in love with her, that there's nothing more he wants to do than spend the rest of his life by her side. But the fear of losing her is almost tearing him apart.

“I’ll be back so quick you won't even have a chance to miss me,” she teases, pocketing the dogtags. “And when I do come back, you owe me that kiss.”

Danse chuckles humorlessly as she pushes past him, grabbing the Pip-Boy from the desk and then securing once again around her wrist. The knot in his throat won't allow him to speak, and he knows that if he dares to try he’ll begin to cry.

“Don't you dare eat all those Fancy Lads in one go, Danse.”

He merely nods, too weak to respond, the pit of his stomach tightening. Penelope moves to pass him, but stops to place a hand on his shoulder. A part of him wishes she would just go, her mere presence too much for him to bear.

Her lips brush against the stubble of his cheek, and Danse closes his eyes to focus on the sensation of her skin on his.

“I love you.”

Danse’s mouth falls slightly apart, heart clenching in his chest. Stars fill his vision for a moment, and he stands there, dumbfounded. _I love you._ He's never heard something more beautiful in his whole life.

He turns to face her, needing her to know that his love for her drowns him, leaves him breathless, but she’s already vanished.

And so Danse falls back into his chair, left with only the ghost of her scent, the smoothness of her skin still lingering on his calloused palms. He reaches for the Mama Juana, uncorks it with his molars, and downs half the bottle in one go.

Penelope was his only salvation from the emptiness of the Wastelands. And now she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise the next one will be... more explicit.  
> And for anyone who was wondering, the song in the chapter is "Besame Mucho".  
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Paladin, I have a gift for you.”
> 
> Danse’s eyes move back up to hers, and find they're glimmering with happiness. He raises an eyebrow at her and questions, “Oh?” The gift he’d gotten for her rests in his jacket’s inner pocket, though he hadn't expected one in return.
> 
> She smiles at him, genuinely this time, and Danse’s heart melts in his chest. He's been longing to kiss her since the second their lips last parted back in his bedroom, but through her recovery and Maxson’s orders to focus on the Institute he’s hardly had the time to see her. This is the first moment they've had alone since the night before she left for the Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while...  
> Thank you to everyone who's been patient with me. It's taken me a long time to finish this, due to my own anxieties (I've rewritten it three times) and work, but I've -finally- got it done.  
> Either way, here it is, the last chapter of Deliverance!

“You look dashing tonight, Paladin.”

 

Her ruby mouth is curled into a coy grin that leaves little to the imagination. Danse raises a scarred eyebrow, lifting a bottle of beer to his lips, and steps a little closer.

Through the shadows she shines, golden skin contrasting perfectly against the immaculate white dress enveloping her body. Her hair, a waterfall of dark curls, cascades down her back elegantly, and it's here that Danse sees, for the first time, an angel.

Penelope takes a short sip of her wine, leaning back against the wall. She looks relaxed, swirling the dark liquid in its glass, though her eyes hold a mischievous glint.

“Nothing compared to you, Knight.”

Her tongue runs over her teeth slowly as she eyes him, and then she motions for him stand beside her. It’s from this angle that Danse gets a peek of what lies beneath the satin, a sliver of flesh. His eyes shift from her chest to her eyes, and finds that she’s been watching the whole time.

“Having fun?”

Danse isn't sure if she’s referring to the party or to him sizing her up, but either way he responds, “The time of my life.”

Penelope laughs, eyes lidded as she side-eyes him. Danse hasn't forgotten, after nearly two months, the softness of her voice when she told him that she loved him. He lets his hand fall next to hers and brushes his fingers against her palm.

“How are you feeling?”

Penelope squeezes his fingers softly and releases just as quickly, appearing casual.

“The wine helps, though the pain’s not that bad in the first place.”

Danse’s fingers trail up her side carefully, following the scar that runs from her thigh to just below her breast.  He's only seen it once, when they first brought her in and Knight Captain Cade nearly lost it trying to stitch her up. The memory persists though, a mix of her blood and his tears.

“You should rest, Paez,” he advises, his hand falling once again at his side. He’s pushing it, touching her like this where anyone could see.

Penelope downs the last of her wine, purring softly at his touch, but her eyes remain level. She sets the glass on the table beside her, amongst a collection of empty bottles and tumblers, and steps away from the wall. Her hands are gentle as she straightens out her dress, and Danse’s eyes follow as they run down the planes of her stomach, over her wide hips, and end just above her knees.

“Paladin, I have a gift for you.”

Danse’s eyes move back up to hers, and find they're glimmering with happiness. He raises an eyebrow at her and questions, “Oh?” The gift he’d gotten for her rests in his jacket’s inner pocket, though he hadn't expected one in return. 

She smiles at him, genuinely this time, and Danse’s heart melts in his chest. He's been longing to kiss her since the second their lips last parted back in his bedroom, but through her recovery and Maxson’s orders to focus on the Institute he’s hardly had the time to see her. This is the first moment they've had alone since the night before she left for the Sea.

Penelope motions for him to follow her with a quick cocking of her head and Danse does as he’s instructed, enthralled by the swaying of her hips when she walks. Amidst the bustle of chatting and laughter he only hears the soft clicking of her heels against the steel flooring, her gentle breathing, the jingling of her earrings. He hardly notices when they're finally alone in the living quarters, drawn out of hypnosis by her gentle voice.

“I didn't think Elder Maxson was this festive.”

Danse chuckles, watching as she pops her legs up behind her to slide off her heels.

“It's been a tough year for the Brotherhood of Steel, but your efforts turned all of that around. I think Arthur feels we deserve to celebrate.”

She bends over her footlocker, ass tight against the satin dress, and Danse can feel his pulse quicken. From it she retrieves a thin package, wrapped in worn forest green paper decorated with golden pine trees. Her smile is bashful as she turns to him, her cheeks flushed a light shade of rose.

“Merry Christmas, Danse.”

Danse takes the gift from her with one hand while the other reaches into his jacket. Her gift is a square package, neatly wrapped in plain red paper. Penelope's cheeks become even redder as her delicate fingers accept it, though in her eyes there's joy.

“Merry Christmas, Penelope.”

She squeaks softly, feeling around inside the paper, to which Danse replies, “That’s cheating. You have to wait until the morning.”

Penelope huffs softly, setting the red bundle down on top of her footlocker. Danse does the same with his gift, and by the time he looks back up Penelope is seated at the edge of her bed, long legs crossed over one another.

“I've missed you.”

Danse’s eyes soften as he lands beside her. His fingers trace up her leg delicately and he whispers, “You’re all I think about.”

Penelope’s hand cups his chin and forces his gaze to hers.

“You still owe me something.”

Danse’s mouth goes dry. The commotion of the party above is still audible, if barely, and though the lower levels are all empty, they're still out in the open. He prides himself a strong man, above falling into temptation, but her mouth is beckoning him, plump and reddened.

His hand slides from her knee up to her waist and he pulls her closer to his body. She smells of mutfruit and wine, her skin warm and fragrant, the sensory overload dizzying to him. He trails his fingers up the back of her dress and she curls into his touch, sighing softly.

“I've been dying to pay you back.”

Danse captures her mouth in a slow kiss, his hand burying itself in her curls. Her lips are the softest he’s ever kissed, gentle and patient against his hurried ones. He slides his tongue over her bottom lip, burning with the need to taste her, and she opens her lips for him willingly.

Penelope’s hands are on the collar of his jacket, pulling him close enough for him to feel the pressure of her plush breasts against his chest. He groans into the kiss, hands traveling down to her ass to grasp tightly, and pulls her onto his lap.

She squeals softly in surprise, digging her fingers into his shoulders, mouth becoming desperate with each passing second. Her teeth capture his bottom lip and Danse moans at the sensation, cock growing hard as her hips brush against his. He’s losing himself in her, in the heat of her skin, the softness of her mouth. Danse pulls back slowly, breathing heavy, hands trembling as they trail up to her waist.

Penelope’s mouth is smeared pink from her lipstick, hair disheveled from his prying hands. Danse reaches into his breast pocket to retrieve a square of cloth, and with it he wipes his mouth, and then hers, lovingly. Her dress has ridden up her thighs, exposing the lower half of a tattoo of a pair of boxing gloves, Americana style. Danse’s fingers immediately trail down to it, brushing softly against her skin.

“I almost went crazy the first time I saw this tattoo.”

Penelope scoffs, eyes rolling, but Danse interjects, “It’s one of the sexiest thing I've seen in my life, Penelope.”

“I didn't think you were into tattoos.”

Danse adjusts his position, settling her into his lap so that her ass sticks up a bit. His hand moves down to it, thumb grazing right below her right cheek, where her other tattoo lies.

“I wasn't until I saw this.”

Penelope bares her teeth at him, grinding her hips into his slowly, torturously, and Danse has to hold back from crying out. He can feel her part for him through his trousers, slick and hot. His hands move up her ass, towards her lower back, and it's then that he notices that she’s not wearing underwear.

“Is this a regular thing, or..?” The prospect is thrilling.

Penelope laughs, head tilting back slightly, and Danse takes the opportunity to place a kiss on her neck.

“The dress wouldn't have looked as good with them on.”

“Sweetheart, if you can make a Brotherhood uniform look good,” he punctuates his sentence with a quick slap on her ass, “you can make anything look good.”

Penelope rolls her hips against his once more, and this time she receives a sharp exhale from the Paladin. She's grinning at him devilishly, well aware of the effect she has on him.

Danse slides his arms beneath her thighs, lifting her easily, and reverses their position. It's now Penelope who’s seated on the bed, Danse standing between her legs.

“Lay back,” he instructs as calmly as he can muster, but the mere thought of tasting her already has his hands trembling.

Penelope does as she's told, hair a halo of brown as she rests back against the mattress. There's excitement in her eyes as Danse runs his thumbs over her shins, kneeling down between her thighs. He places a gentle kiss on her knee, reminiscent of the one he'd given her when she came for him all those months ago, and trails his lips up her inner thigh. He stops just below the hem of her dress, teeth scraping against the delicate flesh.

“I've dreamt about this moment since the day I met you.”

He'd abandoned the notion of decorum the moment her lips touched his, though his mind has been ravaging her for over a year. It was shameful to him then, wanting her the way that he did, but now she’s here, chest rising and falling in anticipation, legs quivering beneath his touch. Fuck decorum, fuck protocol, fuck formalities. He wants her, and she wants him back. And that's all that matters to him now.

His hand cups her ass, pulling her closer to him, while the other begins sliding her dress further up her thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him as he exposes the valley between her legs, concealed beneath neat dark curls.

Danse’s eyes lock on hers as he runs his thumb over her wet slit, watching as her eyebrows knit together, mouth falling slightly open in surprise. He smirks, lowering his mouth over her, goose bumps forming over his skin at the anticipation in her darkened eyes.

His cock hardens as her taste hits his tongue, ambrosial and tangy, an elixir concocted to intoxicate him. He groans, swallowing her juices with animal need, every passing second that he doesn’t have her more painful than the last. Penelope groans out, a low, primal sound that could send any man into a frenzy, her hips rolling slowly against his mouth. Danse moans into her, eyes closing as he runs his tongue over her swollen clit.

“Danse-”

Her words are interrupted by a breathy growl, back arching off the bed as Danse slides a finger into her tight heat. She tangles one of her hands in his hair, nails running over his scalp in desperation, while the other clings tightly to the edge of the bed.

“M-More...”

She doesn't even need to ask. Danse is willing to give up anything to be the one to make her come. He kisses her hip softly, giving her time to adjust as he slides another finger into her, index and middle curling against her sweetest spot. Penelope bites down on her lip, legs trembling around him as Danse caresses her thigh. He watches as her mouth falls open again, exhaling sharply when he pumps his fingers in and out of her, as her eyebrows furrow together in pleasure, as her eyes flutter with every kiss he places on her clit. She's the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Danse’s fingers curl into her again and he feels her clench around him, her tightness almost unbearable. Just the thought of feeling that around his cock is making him lightheaded. Penelope’s hand clenches around his hair, pulling him up to face her. Her stare is hungry, intense; it sends a shiver running down his spine. She wets her lips, pink tongue enticing, and whispers, “I need you to fuck me, Danse.”

Danse can feel the pressure building in his lower stomach, heart pounding in his chest at her demand. Penelope’s cheeks are tinged pink, lips apart as she attempts to catch her breath. She’s ethereal, nipples stiff beneath her dress, hair splayed around her, pussy bare and wet and quivering for him.

He slides his fingers out of her and slowly sucks her juices off them, watching as her eyebrows rise in enthrallment. She sits up, and with trembling hands, begins guiding Danse’s jacket off his shoulders. His own hands rest on her hips, waiting patiently as her fingers unknot his tie, then move down to work the buttons. Her nails scrape softly against his flesh with every one she undoes, earning her a soft growl every time.

Danse’s hands slide down to her thighs as she nears the bottom, pulling her up to him. She’s hot and slick against his lower stomach and his need for her grows with every one of her moves, the hardness against his slacks almost painful. 

He rests back against her bed, Penelope straddling him. Her fingers brush over the curls on his chest, run over its planes and down his abdominals, the admiration and desire in her eyes palpable. Danse runs his hands up her hips carefully, taking caution of her freshly healed wounds, and up to her shoulders. His fingers hook around the straps of her dress, breath catching in his throat as he slides them down her arms, revealing her deep clavicles, her enticing cleavage, and then, finally, her delicious, supple breasts. He lets her dress fall around her hips and brushes his thumb over the scar running down the length of her torso, the one just above her right hip, and the one below her breast on the same side.

Danse looks up to Penelope, expecting her to be somewhat embarrassed, but her head is thrown back slightly, eyes closed. He should have known; scars, bruises, wounds, or burns had never been a big deal to the fighter. His eyes fall back to admiring her curves, the elegant way her waist cinches and then flares out towards her hips, the heaviness of her tits. Her body awakes something carnal in him, something animalistic and obscene. His neck tilts forward slightly to capture her nipple between his teeth, releasing once he receives a low growl from her.

Her pussy grinds against his slacks, but he can still feel her warmth against his erection through their fabric. Danse’s back arches slightly off the bed, groan caught in his throat. One of his hands grabs at her hip, anchoring her to him, while the other digs into her thick ass. He grinds his hips against hers and watches as goose bumps rise over her stomach, her brown nipples stiffening and perking. Penelope’s nails scrape over his lower stomach, following the trail of dark hair leading down to the top of his slacks.

She looks at him, golden eyes bright and wide with excitement, as her fingers unbutton and unzip his pants. Danse raises an eyebrow at her, and invitation, and he feels Penelope’s legs twitch around him. Penelope swallows, fingers hooking around the band of his underwear, and Danse raises his hips a bit to allow her to slide them down.

His erection springs free of his boxers, hot and hard with need for her. Penelope bites her lip as she looks down on him, her index finger running along the length of his cock, causing Danse to twitch involuntarily. She smirks, wrapping a hand around it, and teases, “Bigger than I remember.”

Danse chuckles, running his thumbs over her hipbones, and retorts, “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, Paez.” Penelope laughs, leaning down to kiss him, and just like in his fantasies, her long curls waterfall over his face. She raises herself up on her knees, and with the hand still around his cock, guides him to her entrance.

Danse swallows a moan when her slickness slides over the tip of his cock, his fingers digging into her hips so tightly he leaves imprints on the skin. Penelope rests a hand on his chest, face furrowing with a mix of pain and pleasure, Danse’s thick cock spreading her open. She feels like heaven as she slides down on him, her heat so divine it make Danse’s vision blur at the edges. He’s trying his best not to thrust his hips up to meet hers, giving her time to adjust to his girth, but the burning at the base of his spine is threatening to break his will.

Penelope’s nails dig into his flesh, leaving pink crescents sprinkled over his chest as she settles herself fully at his base. She releases a soft mewl, her hips rolling slowly against his, and Danse feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest. He shakily moves his hand up her back, guiding her along his length, aching but patient. Penelope throws her head back, pace increasing, and Danse allows himself to lift his hips up against hers, a shaky groan escaping him as he buries himself deeper in her.

Penelope lifts herself slightly, enough for Danse to see himself sliding out of her, and comes crashing down on his hips. She bounces on him again and again, crying his name out with that sweet voice of hers. Danse’s entire body convulses, fire burning through his veins, already so close to coming. His hands squeeze her thighs softly, voice weak and low as he pleads, “Slow down, sweetheart, or I might embarrass myself.”

Penelope’s cheeks flush a light pink as her rhythm slows. Danse breathes out softly, trying to regain composure, attempting to focus on anything but her tightness around him. His hands trail up to her breasts, cupping them in his large hands, thumbs grazing her nipples with care. 

“Just like that, love…”

Danse’s pace adjusts his pace to meet Penelope’s, hips rolling against hers slow and deep. His hand slides to her back as he sits up, holding her against his chest, his other cupping her cheek lovingly. Penelope’s forehead presses against his, her lidded gaze tender. Despite the passion, the lust, the pure carnal desire, there is love for him in her eyes, so much it makes him want to drown in her. Danse’s thumb brushes against her full lips, his mouth falling over her own for a moment before he whispers, “I love you, Penelope.”

Penelope’s lips return to his with an ardent kiss, hands tangling in his hair, a newfound need within her. Danse’s arms wrap around her carefully, loosely enough to let her guide herself freely as her pace begins to quicken. Her nails dig into his scalp and Danse feels her pussy tighten around him, milking him with every bounce, her cum dripping onto his balls. He moans into her mouth, kissing her more hungrily than ever before, knowing that he's close to making her come. One of his hands slaps at her ass, urging her to ride him, needing to come with her.

Penelope breaks the kiss just as a low groan escapes her lips, “I want you to watch me come.”

A lightning bolt runs through Danse’s back, cock twitching in attention with every word that comes out of her mouth. Just when he thought he couldn't get harder.

He lifts her ass with both hands and guides her back down, harder and faster each time, a moan ripping out of his lips with each thrust. He can feel Penelope’s pussy throbbing around him, the sensation almost too much for him to bear, but then she cries out. His name sounds exquisite coming out of her lips, low and sensuous, and her pretty mouth falls open so captivatingly as she comes. Danse feels the hair on the back of his neck stand, the sight much too heavenly. He thrusts into her one last time, deep and slow, as he comes, an animalistic growl escaping him. Penelope hasn’t stopped bouncing on him, the sensation overwhelming, causing his vision to go white. He swallows hard, clenching her hips, needing something to anchor him to the world. She’s filling herself with his cum, pumping it deeper inside of her, and the knowledge that she wants to be his fulfills a primal desire he didn’t even know he had.

Penelope trembles once again, an aftershock of her orgasm, and collapses onto his shoulder, her cheek slick with sweat. Danse caresses her hair softly as he lays them back down on the bed, attempting to regain his breath, collect his thoughts. Lingering in the back of his mind is the party upstairs, though it’s hard for him to focus on the sound. He can only hear Penelope’s breathing and the pumping of his heartbeat against his ears.

“That was a lot more than you owed me.”

Danse chuckles, pressing his lips against the top of her head, brushing his fingertips along her spine. This is happiness; her hair falling over his chest, her lips soft against his neck, the perfume of her skin lingering on his own.

“You can make it up to me by being mine for the rest of my life.”

It’s a long shot, but Penelope replies, “I was thinking Christmas Day blowjob, but your idea’s fine too.”

This time he laughs, really laughs, for the first time in a long time. After thirty years of life in the Wastelands, he found, finally, deliverance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through all of that. I know, I'm out here doing the most. I'm thinking of doing a "Christmas Day blowjob" one-shot, so keep an eye out for that. I appreciate all of you who read this, and hope to get your feedback.


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